"'I ain't meanin' nothin' ag'inst Burns's su'gestion,' says Texas Thompson, 'but in my opinion this camp ain't ripe for keepin' books as yet.Things like that has to be come to by degrees.I've knowed a heap of trouble arise from keepin' books, an' as long as this yere's a peaceful camp let's keep it that a-way.'
"'That settles it,' says Burns, 'thar's enough said, an' I don't keep no books.'
"'You-alls present knows me,' says Cherokee Hall, who, as I says previous, is turnin' faro in the Red Light, 'an' most of you has met me frequent in a business way.Thar's my game goin' every night reg'lar.Thar's nothin' tin-horn about it.It ain't no skin game neither.Any gent with doubts can step over an' test my box, which he'll find all comfortable on the layout awaitin' his convenience.
It ain't been usual for me to blow my own bazoo to any extent, an' Ionly does it now as bein' preliminary to the statement that my game ain't no deadfall, an' is one as a respectable an' virchus female person could set in on with perfect safetytood to her reputation.
This yere lady in question needs light, reg'lar employment, an' Ilets it fly that if she wants in on any sech deal I'll go her a blue stack a week to hold down the chair as look-out for my game.'
"'Cherokee's offer is all right,' says Enright; 'it's good talk from a squar' man.Women, however, is partic'lar, an' like hosses they shies at things thar ain't no danger in.You sees how that is; a woman don't reason nothin', she feels an' mighty likely this young person is loaded to the gyards with sech notions ag'in gamblin' as would send her flyin' at the bare mention.The fact is, I thinks of somethin' sim'lar, but has to give it up.I figgers, first dash out o' the box, that a safe, easy trail to high ground is to give her a table an' let her deal a little stud for the boys.This yere wouldn't be no resk, an' the rake is a shore thing for nine or ten dollars a night.Bein' a benev'lence, I knows the boys would set in mighty free, an' the trouble would be corraled right thar.With this yere in my mind I taps her gently about our various games when Icalls for her paw; an' to put it straight, she takes it reluctant an' disgusted at the mere hint.Of course we-alls has to stand these things from woman, an' we might as well p'int up some other way an'
no time lost.'
"'Don't you-alls reckon for to make a speshul rake on all poker goin', same as about that Yallerhouse gent, might be an ondefeasible way to get at the neck of this business?' says Dave Tutt.'I merely asks it as a question.'
"'That wouldn't do,' says Doc Peets, 'but anyhow yere comes Wilkins how, an' if, as Enright says, the're out of chuck up his way, Ireckons I'll lose a small bet to the old shorthorn ontil sech times as we devises some scheme all reg'lar.'
"'Howdy, Wilkins?' says Doc, mighty gay an' genial, 'how's things stackin' up?'
"'Mighty ornery,' says Wilkins.
"'Feel like makin' a little wager this A.M.?' says Doc.
"'What do you-all want to gamble at?' says Wilkins.
"'Oh,' says Doc, 'I'm feelin' a heap careless about what I do gamble at.S'pose I goes you ten dollars's worth of grub the Lordsburg buckboard don't show up none to-day?'
"'If I had ten dollars I'd about call you a lot on that,' says Wilkins, 'but I'm a pore cuss an' ain't got no ten dollars, an'
what's the use? None of you-alls ain't got no Red Light whiskey-chips you ain't usin', be you? S'pose you-alls gropes about in your war-bags an' sees.I'm needin' of a drink mighty bad.'
"Old Wilkins looks some queer about the eyes, an' more'n usual shaky, so we gives him a big drink an' he sorter braces up.
"'I'll back Wilkins's end of that bet you offers, Doc,' says Tutt, 'so consider it made, will you?'
"'You was offerin' to bet grub,' says the old man, powerful peevish an' fretful.'What for do you want to bet grub? Why don't you bet money, so I gets what I wants with it? It's my money when I wins.
Mebby I don't want no grub.Mebby I wants clothes or whiskey.You ain't no sport, Doc, to tie up a play with a string like that.Gimme another drink some one, I'm most dyin' for some.'
"The old man 'pears like he's mighty sick that a-way, so thar's nothin' for it but to give him another hooker, which we does accordin'.
"'I'm feelin' like I was shot hard by somethin',' he says, 'an' Idon't like for to go home till I'm better, an' scare Sue.I reckon I'll camp down on this yere monte table for an hour till I comes 'round.'
"So Wilkins curls up on the table, an' no one notices him for about twenty minutes, when along comes rattlin' up the Lordsburg mail.
"'You win, Wilkins,' says Peets; 'come over to the New York Store an' cut out your stuff.' "The old man acts like he don't hear, so Doc shakes him up some.No use, thar ain't no get up in him.
"'Looks like he's gone to sleep for good,' says Doc.
"Then he walks 'round him, shakes him, an' takes a look at his eye, a-openin' of it with his finger.Finally he stands back, sticks his thumb in his belt, an' whistles.
"'What's up?' says Cherokee Hall.'He ain't tryin' to work us for another drink I hopes.'
"Well, this is a deal,' says Doc, 'an' no humbug neither.Gents, I'm blessed if this yere old prairie-dog ain't shorely up an' died.'
"We-alls comes up an' takes a look at him, an' Doc has called the turn.Shore enough the old man has cashed in.
"`This is a hoss on us, an' no doubt about it,' says Enright.'Iain't worryin' for Wilkins, as he most likely is ahead on the deal;but what gets me is how to break the news to this yere maiden.It's goin' to be a hair-line play.I reckons, Doc, it's you an' me.'
